On a Ledge
by RonsPigwidgeon
Summary: In which Castiel is stubbornly suicidal, and Dean talks a complete stranger off a ledge.


Dean approaches the bridge with caution, not wanting to startle the dude into falling over the edge. "Hey buddy, you okay, there?" he calls up over the wind.

The man does startle, whipping his head around and down to look at Dean. Dean's breath is momentarily caught. The guy is beautiful, dark hair and eyes such a deep blue he can make them out despite the six-foot distance. "I'm fine, thank you," the man says, and the rough gravel of his voice does things to Dean.

"Just thought I'd check, seeing as it looks like you're about to jump. I'm Dean, by the way. Dean Winchester."

"I do not need your help, Dean Winchester. Thank you, but I would prefer to be alone."

"Yeah, I get that. I like being alone sometimes, too. Thing is, I'm not going anywhere until you get off that ledge, so it looks like you might be stuck with me."

The guy gives him an irritated look. "That is not necessary, I can assure you."

"Just the same. Mind telling me your name? I told you mine, 's only fair."

The answer is grumbled through clenched teeth. "Didn't quite catch that."

"Castiel."

"Cas-tee-el, huh? Mind if I call you Cas?"

"If you must."

"So, what's going on that made you think jumping off a bridge was a good plan?"

"I never said I was jumping."

"Oh, so you're just standing on a six-foot-tall ledge in a rainstorm for the breathing room?"

"Maybe."

_He's a stubborn fucker, I'll give him that_. "If you're looking for somewhere to think, I got an empty apartment that's all yours. All you gotta do is come down from there. I'll even cook for you."

"No, thank you," Castiel says, not looking at Dean.

Dean sighs, but doesn't say anything for a minute. He figures Cas isn't likely to jump if he's still standing there, so he has time. "Wanna tell me what prompted you to hop a six-foot ledge and stand over the river in the pouring rain? Gotta say, I'm curious."

Castiel shoots him a glare, but doesn't answer.

Dean leans his back against the concrete a foot from Cas and tips his head back on to ledge to look up at him. "Look, I get it. I've been there, believe me. But whatever you're going through, it'll pass."

The snarl he receives for his effort is a thing of beauty. Dean can't be sure because of the rain, but he thinks the guy might have literally hissed at him. "You have no idea what I'm going through."

"No? About three years ago I woke up in the middle of the night and decided I was gonna eat my gun. I sat on the edge of the bed and starred at my pistol for a good... four hours, maybe? Worst four hours of my life. You know what made me put that gun away?" Castiel shakes his head solemnly, staring down at Dean as though he is a new species that can't quite be understood yet. "My kid brother started banging around in the kitchen, making breakfast. I knew I couldn't leave him all alone in the world, even if the life insurance would have been a better use to him than I was. So, I put the gun away, I got up, took a shower, and had breakfast with him. Best decision of my life."

Castiel is hesitant, but he crouches down and sits on the ledge, cross-legged, tan trench coat billowing out behind him. He's only half-facing Dean, but Dean can tell he's even more gorgeous up close. "What made you want to do it in the first place?"

Dean is hyper-aware that he's still on the ledge, even if he is no longer poised to jump. He could still stand up at any time, and Dean would not have enough time to stop him. "If I tell you, will you tell me why you're up there?"

"Perhaps."

"That's not much of a guarantee."

Castiel only stares at him.

"Alright, fine. So, my kid brother, Sam, he was a senior in high school at the time, and he wanted to go to Stanford University. He'd gotten in and everything, but we didn't have the money to pay for it. Our mom had died when Sam was a baby, and our dad had had a heart-attack maybe six months before then. I had money from Dad's life insurance policy, and I'd been working eighty-hour weeks to save up for him, but I knew it wasn't going to be enough. I had this life insurance policy, $175,000. Even after taxes, it would have been enough for Sammy to get through school and maybe even law school, too. My girlfriend of four years had just broken up with me and taken her kid with her. I couldn't think of one reason that anyone would need me except Sammy, and at the time I figured I was more use to him dead than alive. So I got my gun out and I..." Dean waves a hand in the air to indicate the rest.

Castiel is still frowning. "Insurance companies usually don't pay out if the death was self-inflicted."

"They do if the person came home from Iraq with PTSD the year before. That, I think, was a big part of it, too. I get these flashbacks when I hear certain noises. I've been through a lot of therapy, and they're better now, I can handle them better now, but back then, I think I was tired of dealing with them. I just wanted it all to stop, you know? I don't know, my head was in a weird place. Looking back, I wish I'd listened to my doctor when he told me to go get help as soon as we realized what was going on."

Castiel is about to say something in response, his mouth beginning to open, when another voice breaks through their conversation. "Sir, are you alright? Could you come off that ledge, please?" They both turn to see a police officer walking towards them, slow and cautious. It's a woman, light-haired and nervous-looking. Dean curses whoever called the cops. This could send Cas back ready to jump.

He flashes Cas a reassuring smile and pats his knee. "Give me a second to talk to her, okay? Don't go anywhere. You owe me a story." He waits for Cas to nod in agreement before turning to the officer with his brightest smile and steps closer to her. "Hey, Officer. I appreciate you coming out and all, but I've got this. Give me ten more minutes, and I'll have him down."

"Do you know this gentleman?" the officer asks.

"No, I just saw him on the ledge and stopped, but I think we've got a report. I'm worried if someone else interrupts, it'll set him off, you know? Can you just give me five, maybe ten minutes? If he's still not off the ledge by then, I'll step away and you can take over."

The officer gives him a stern look. "It would go against regulation to allow that to happen, sir. Excuse me." She steps around him and approaches Castiel, who immediately stands and edges away from her. "Sir, hello, my name is Officer Muriel. May I ask what your name is, sir?"

"I would like to speak with Dean," is all Cas says. He looks like a drowned rat, pathetic and sad. Dean feels weird thinking it, but he kind of wants to pull him down and hug him.

Officer Muriel turns to Dean, looking confused. "Um..."

"Yeah, that's what I was just telling her, Cas. If you don't mind, Officer?" He steps around _her_, patting her shoulder as he does. Cas leans down again, but doesn't sit. The officer steps back, still clearly uncertain.

Castiel waits until the officer is far enough back to be unlikely to hear them over the rain. "How long did you serve?"

"Nope, not until you tell me why you're up there. If you wanna hop down while you're telling me, that'd be cool, too."

Castiel looks at him long and hard. "I killed my husband," is all he says, like that's an explanation.

Dean raises his eyebrows. 'Really? Did he cheat on you? Try to steal all your money?"

"He got into a car accident. We were driving home from a party at my brother's. Balthazar wanted to stay over at Gabe's, but I insisted on going home. He fell asleep at the wheel and we swerved into on-coming traffic and right into an SUV. I broke my wrist, but Balthazar... didn't make it."

Dean stares at him for a second, trying to process this story. What comes out of his mouth next isn't exactly tactful. "Dude, you're husband fell asleep at the wheel and that's your fault? It was an accident, Cas. That's why they call them car accidents. It sucks, but it's not worth your life."

"I never said it was."

Dean gives him a look. "Really? Then, how about you pop down if you're not planning on killing yourself?"

"I'm not going to do that."

"Alright, we'll just stand here in the rain, then. I don't mind."

Despair overtakes Cas' eyes. "I killed my husband, Dean. I don't deserve to live while he is gone."

Dean does the only thing he can think of to do, he halls himself up onto the ledge next to Cas and stands, much to the protest of Officer Muriel. Thankfully, she's too short to actually be able to reach them. Cas stands as well, horror written all over his face. "What are you doing?"

Dean straightens his shoulders and looks Castiel directly in the eyes, putting all his military background behind his stance. "I've killed over 150 people, Cas. Some with my bare hands, all with intent. If you deserve to end your life for accidentally influencing the death of one man, then I definitely deserve to die."

"No, that's not true. You were a soldier following orders. I was just a selfish assbutt."

Dean flexes his jaw muscles. "Not all of the people I've killed were insurgents. A couple of my bombs hit civilians. Kids. You still think I don't deserve to die?"

Castiel reaches a hand out, clutching at Dean's jacket. "I don't."

"Then, neither do you. Can you please come down now? I'll buy you a cup of coffee and you can tell me about Balthazar."

"No, I..."

"Cas."

Cas looks down at his hand, still clutching Dean's jacket. He drops his hand, pulling it into his chest and using it to hug himself. After a moment, he says, barely loud enough to be heard over the storm, "I would not mind a cup of coffee."

"Yeah? Okay, cool. We're gonna have to get down to get it, though."

"I understand that."

"Alright, you first, then."

Castiel eyes him, but reluctantly crouches down and hops over the side of the ledge onto the pavement. Dean follows him down, grinning. Officer Muriel meets them, eyes wide. Dean holds a hand out to her, making sure to keep his other hand firmly around Cas' back so he can't run away or try to jump back up on the ledge or do something equally stupid. "Thanks for your help, Officer, but we're gonna go get coffee and talk it out now, if you don't mind."

Muriel shakes Dean's hand, but her eyes are on Castiel. "Are you alright, sir?" she asks him.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Can I ask your name? I'm going to have to write a report."

"I'm sorry, but I would prefer to remain anonymous, if you don't mind." He turns to look up at Dean with his blue, blue eyes. His hair is plastered to his forehead and he looks soaked-through, but Dean still think he looks fantastic. A little butterfly takes flight in his stomach. "We were going somewhere?"

"Yeah, how about we go to my apartment and dry off? I've got a pair of pajamas with you name on it, and plenty of coffee to go around." Castiel agrees with a nod, and Dean leads him towards the Impala, waiving to the flailing officer still trying to get their names behind them.


End file.
